I saw you today, from a distance. You walked towards me, the colour draining from the world around you. You impressed upon the near-greys and flat hues, like the girl in the red coat.

I smiled an involuntary smile. I could feel my cheeks glowing. Questions like “What are you doing here?” and “Why now?” formed in my mind like balloons, then almost as quickly exploded in bursts of coloured plastic as they were popped by pins of indifference. Why you were here was unimportant. That you were here at all was enough.

As you came closer and your features came into focus, I could see it wasn’t you. Of course it wasn’t. Not really. From afar, though, it could have been you. A Polaroid of you, an Impressionist painting, beautifully rendered, waiting to be framed.

The colours of the world flooded back like waves crashing on the beach, perhaps a little more vibrant and vivid than before. Although it hadn’t been you, you’d left your mark on the world and it seemed all the brighter for it.